


We Deserve to Twinkle

by MostWeakHamlets



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Absolutely no slash here folks, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Model AU, They're just friends and howard just wants to protect this child, bc vince is underage for a chapter and uh no, for an au i don't have fully planned, i wrote 3k for a fic i don't know how to continue, not today satan or pedophiles, there's nothing romantic here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-10-06 00:38:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17335406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostWeakHamlets/pseuds/MostWeakHamlets
Summary: Vince Noir is a teen model who's fairly unhappy with his career. Howard is a shopkeeper who’s a little clueless but somehow a little helpful. Somehow, they find together and save one another.“We are all of us stars, and we deserve to twinkle.”–Marilyn Monroe (kinda)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> idk what I'm doing really. It's 2 am, and I've been working on this for a week.

Usually, the fall brought more customers. New university students flooded the little shops before their classes became too intense and the weather too poor to adventure outside for a few blocks. The music store attracted a decent amount of attraction, pulling in the kids who were interested in proving how sophisticated they were by combing through the used vinyl records. Occasionally, they even bought something. 

Howard Moon found the fall rushes to be a nice break from the usual boring shifts. 

Most of the students looked the same. They wore trendy jackets and boots that were probably gifts from family for the new school year. They all held themselves the same way. Now that they were old enough to be away from home for the first time, they were confident and cocky. It would only be a matter of months before Howard would see the same kids come back when the weather was nice again. They would be more relaxed with new groups of friends that they openly laughed and talked with. It was the same every year.

There was one boy, however, that walked in on a unusually warm day that looked too different from the other boys to be a student. For starters, Howards wasn’t sure if he was old enough to be in university. He looked to be 15 under his long hair. Apart from age, his clothes were too outlandish for the usual university crowd. He wore black drainpipes tucked into silver boots and a black t-shirt under a fluffy white jacket. That was definitely not something someone would wear at a new school.      

Howard watched him closely as he brushed his fringe out of his eyes in order to flip through albums. He didn’t look like one of the teenage punks that would come in to cause trouble. He didn’t carry the disinterested air that the others did. He pulled out a record or two every so often to look at them closer before putting them back. 

As Howard was checking out one of the few remaining people in the shop, he heard a couple of girls gasping and mumbling. He looked up to see them pointing at the boy across the room. The boy obviously noticed and despite the little smile on his face, pretended to ignore them. He continued flipping through the records, shuffling half a step to the side to start on a new row. Howard wondered who he was--if he was someone the girls knew personally or if he was someone in one of the realms of celebrities Howard never kept up with. 

The customer at the register left, presumably equally ignorant as Howard because she walked passed the giggling girls without anything more than a glance to the boy. 

The girls finally worked up the courage to walk up to the boy. Howard could barely hear their breathy questions, but he assumed that they asked for a picture. The boy was happy to pose with them as they pulled out their phones and took turns posing with him. The way that he was posing--the way he put his weight on one leg and put an arm around the girls and letting the other hang loose--made Howard think that he had done this before. 

The girls squealed their thanks, clutching their phones in their hands. They left the shop, leaving Howard feeling a bit bitter towards the boy that made the girls forget about the new pop albums they had been invested in before. Now, he was alone in the shop with this boy.

It was eerily quiet, and Howard was left to stress every corner of his brain to try to think of who this boy could be. He had no memory of ever seeing him before. The pointy nose and blue eyes would have stuck in his mind. He would have remembered someone so eccentric. 

The boy approached the counter with an armful of colorful, worn records. Howard couldn’t recall ever seeing them in the shop before and knew that no one had found any interest in them in years. 

“Do you own this place?” the boy asked with a wide smile. 

“No. I just work here.” 

Though, it did feel like Howard should have owned the place with all the hours he put in and how little he saw the actual owner. 

“Well, this place is genius. I love how old you’ve made everything look.”

“It, uh, actually is old. Most of the albums are second-hand. It’s a second-hand shop. It says so outside.”

The boy wasn’t fazed. His eyes brightened even more. “Who brings everything here?”

“We buy used records--it also says that outside. Did you read the sign in the window at all?”

“No.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Not really.”

The boy laughed. Howard wasn’t sure if he was amused or annoyed by it. He wondered how clueless the boy could be. 

“I just got in town the other day,” the boy said. “I’ve been looking for things to do around here--do you know about anything fun?”

“I don’t think I know of anything someone your age would think is fun--how old are you? Shouldn’t you be in school or something?”

“I’m 19!” 

“Really?”

The boy glanced down at the counter. “Well, I’m practically 19. I’m 18.”

Howard raised his eyebrows. 

“I will be 18 in a week.”

“17, then?”

“Yeah. But I don’t really do school anymore.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, wasn’t really my thing. I’ve found other things to do.”

Howard had left school at the same age. At 17, he felt there was nothing left for school to offer him (and really, there was nothing left for him to offer school as a mediocre-at-best student). Even though the kid was a little bit annoying, Howard related to the small shuffles and tugging at hair when the boy was talking about school. The little bit of shame--or worry of judgement--that came when he had to repeat the information to everyone who was a little bit too nosy. 

Howard shrugged. “A-levels aren’t important. I never finished school, either.”

“I didn’t even make it to A-levels.”

The boy ran a hand through his hair, slightly disrupting the fringe. Maybe he was a bit more nervous as he delved further into the conversation. 

“GCSEs aren’t important either.”

The boy smiled--a genuine, bright smile. 

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “Do you get any new stuff in here by chance?” 

“Every Wednesday. It’s usually all out on display by Thursday morning.” 

“Cheers. I’ll be back in a few days, then.”

And he was back in a few days. 

The shop was mostly empty again. Howard had completely forgotten about the boy until he saw him walk in again in an equally extravagant but darker outfit. 

A bit sheepishly, the boy approached the counter. 

“Everything new is right over there,” Howard pointed to the section of fresh, plastic wrapped vinyls. “Is there anything specific you’re waiting for?”

“No, I just like looking for new things to listen to.”

Howard thought, for a second, that maybe he would be able to convince the boy to try jazz. But the boy was off to look at the new albums before he could reach for the special selection next to him. 

The boy flipped through all of the albums, carefully examining every one and laying a few aside. He was entirely invested in every one he picked up. Howard admired that. Usually kids his age skimmed through familiar titles and left empty-handed in fear of trying something new. When Howard was younger, he would find a new album every week and listen to it, fully exploring the genres and artists. The music would fill his bedroom once the sun was down, and his homework would lay abandoned on his desk. 

A woman with greying hair bought an album for her wife and told Howard a brief story about how important the album was to them--how they used to dance to it when they were teenagerse--and how hard it had been to find before now. Howard smiled even after she left. 

“I never got your name,” he said as the boy approached the counter. 

Referring to the boy as “the boy” in his inner-monologues was getting boring and would be rude if he became a regular customer. 

“Vince. Vince Noir.”

Vince looked at Howard’s nametag across the counter, rocking forward on the balls of his feet to lean in. 

“Howard Moon,” he read. “Brilliant.”

“What are you getting?” 

Howard looked at the artwork on the covers. While some were bright colors, others were simple faded pictures of the band. 

“I like this one,” Vince said, flipping one over. “It has rabbits on the back.”

There were indeed rabbits on the back. Their pictures had been cut out and put on the cover lopsided so that it looked like they were falling through the air like rain, next to track list. Howard was more amazed by the artist than the rabbits. 

“I used to listen to them when I was a teenager. They’re a bit experimental--almost psychedelic. At least, back then they were”

“Really? How old are you?”

Vince asked it with excitement, bobbing up and down a bit but wrinkling his nose at the same time. 

“I’m only 26!”

“Oh, that’s not that old, I suppose.”

“It’s not!”

“I was expecting a bit older, though, to be honest.”

Howard no longer liked the boy and internally demoted him to “the boy” again. 

“I’m joking!” Vince said, seeing that Howard didn’t find it funny. He laughed a bit. “It was a joke. 26 isn’t that old. Tell me about these people--I’m liking the psychedelic.” 

Howard shook his head, though he found it easy to forgive the boy--Vince. His cheeriness was a bit contagious. He began telling Vince about the band, trying to capture the atmosphere of the first time he listened to them in his story-telling. 

“I remember their first tour after their first album came out. They played small venues in England, and I got the chance to see them with about 50 other people before they got bigger.”

“Really?” 

Vince looked actually interested. Howard didn’t know he could be interesting. 

“Yeah! They were amazing. They played everything from their album and did some covers of older stuff--you know some classics. I thought they were underappreciated back then.”

Vince was really eating up everything Howard was saying. It felt good to have someone actually interested in what he was saying. 

But it didn’t last long when a man walked in and sighed upon seeing Vince. 

“Vincent! There you are!” the man held his arms out and shook his head. 

Vince’s bright demeanor fell. He frowned and closed his eyes before turning around. 

The man didn’t look old enough to be Vince’s dad. He looked maybe just a little bit older than Howard. Besides, he sounded too posh. 

“We don’t have all day to mess around,” he said. “We’re on a very tight schedule.”

“Alright, I was just buying a few things.”

“We don’t have time for you to be making friends with more shopkeepers.” 

Vince turned back to Howard, he flashed him an apologetic look before handing him a debit card to pay for the albums. 

“If you like these, I’ll be able to recommend you some others.” 

Vince’s smile was painfully forced. “Cheers. I’ll be back then.”

The man lead Vince out the door, an arm on his shoulder. Howard turned away as he heard the man lecturing Vince on the importance of time and punctuality. He was a kid. Where did he have to be?

Vince was still on his mind when he was closing. He felt bad for the kid that was just trying to find music and instead got pushed out. He was still at a loss for who Vince was, though, and why he was attracting attention only a few days ago. He must have been famous with only younger people because there was no way that Howard was  _ that  _ out-of-touch at 26. He knew who the celebrities were. 

He turned on the small TV in the shop while he cleaned. The sun had already set, and he wanted to watch the news to see if he missed anything major in the world while he was stuck behind a counter. He listened with only half an ear, though. The news was wrapping up and live late night talk shows were beginning soon. Why did he always work so late? 

There wasn’t much of a reason for the shop to stay open 10:00 p.m. No one ever came in the last couple hours, and Howard, usually alone, spent ages closing. Everything had to be cleaned, the register needed to be handled, and inventory needed to be checked at least once a week--thankfully that wouldn’t come for a couple more days, on Saturday. It was ridiculous that he was really the only one who ever worked. The owner, rumour had it, was working on opening another shop and spent all his time presumably dealing with those plans. There was another girl who sometimes worked on weekends. She went to university, and she was a weird mix of apathy and stress. Howard had watched her pour over textbooks at the counter, rambling about how she had a  _ very  _ important test on Monday that, but he also watched her shrug off people stealing and short-changing people. Her priorities needed a little work. 

Howard stopped his self-pity when he heard a familiar voice. He froze. Behind him, he could hear Vince. Before he could register what he was hearing and before he turned around, he thought that maybe he had forgotten to lock the door. Maybe Vince was back to kill him. Maybe that’s how people knew him. He was a famous assassin. No, assassins weren’t really famous. They couldn’t be recognized. That was their whole thing. 

Vince was on the television, sitting across from an attractive late night show host. He was laughing, ruffling his hair, and fidgeting his legs. His outfit was even more eccentric now. Black drainpipes with a ruffly black shirt that made him look like a gothic pirate. Or a vampire. They had really played up his paleness with makeup. He had to have been wearing a light foundation under the black eye makeup. 

“I was allowed to pick my own outfit tonight,” Vince said. “I think my agent is regretting that now. Right before I went on he said I looked like a gothic pirate.”

Howard nodded, impressed with himself. 

The audience laughed as Vince continued. 

“I told him ‘good. That’s my next career move.’” 

The host laughed. “Is it? Once you give up modeling?” 

A model! That explained so much. That was why the girls recognized him when Howard had never heard of him before. That was why he wore such outlandish yet fashionable clothes. 

“I’m thinking of retiring soon, anyways,” Vince said. 

“Retiring? You’re 17. I wish I could have retired at 17.” The host laughed in a bit of a condescending way and expertly changed the conversation. “But you’re turning 18 in two days, right?” 

“Yeah!” 

“Any big plans?”

“I’ve heard that there’s going to be a party--but I’m not supposed to know about it, so don’t tell anyone, alright? Let’s keep it between us.”

“Alright. Any other plans?”

The host was obviously itching to move the interview along. Vince paused to think, crossing and uncrossing his legs. 

“Not really. I don’t think so. Is there anything else you’re supposed to do on your birthday?”

“Well,” the host reached behind his desk to pull out a magazine, “you could also celebrate being on the cover of  _ Dazed and Confused _ .”

“Oh yeah!”

There was something charming about how ditzy the boy was. If Howard hadn’t met him twice, he would have thought that he was putting on an act. 

“Look at me with that baby chimp,” he said. “Her name is Rosie.”

“Rosie, huh?”

Vince, on the cover of the magazine, was cradling a baby chimpanzee. It was absolutely adorable, Howard had to admit. 

“And there’s a story about why you posed with chimps,” the host said, prompting Vince to say more. 

Something came over Vince. He straightened up a bit and lost the childish twinkle in his eyes. 

“They’re endangered,” he said. “Rosie’s parents were killed, and she was found alone. She couldn’t protect herself or anything, so she was brought into captivity a month ago.”

“That’s sweet.”

Vince opened his mouth to say more, but the host turned to the camera. 

“You can read about Rosie and her rescuers, and Vince’s thoughts in the newest edition of  _ Dazed and Confused.  _ We’re going to take a break, and when we get back, we’ll have Dylan Camel with us…” 

Howard stopped listening to the host. Vince was smiling at the camera. Just as awkward and forced as Howard saw just hours before. 

He didn’t usually read magazines other than his jazz subscriptions, but it wouldn’t hurt if he picked up a copy of  _ Dazed and Confused  _ on the way to work tomorrow morning. He would like to know more about Rosie, truthfully. She looked like a sweet animal.

* * *

 

“You’re not supposed to bring up retiring.”

Vince was wiping off his makeup the best he could with the moist wipe that left a stinging on his cheeks. He would have to do his whole face routine once he got home, starting with proper makeup remover. 

Leo stood behind him, arms crossed, continuing his lecture. 

“That’s something we’re going to talk about and think through together.”

“When?” Vince asked. “Because I’ve bringing this up for over a month now--”

“When everything is calmed down, Vincent. You’ve just moved because you wanted out of London. I gave you that, alright? Now, you have a 30 minute commute to any studio or interview--minimum 30 minutes. You just got on the cover of  _ Dazed and Confused.  _ Wasn’t that one of your top magazines you wanted to be in? And you get to raise awareness for gorillas--”

“Chimps.”

“Chimps. Right.” Leo sighed. “Let’s let things settle down before we make any drastic choices.”

Vince looked at Leo in his mirror and turned to face him. He nodded and was met with a smile.

“There you go. Now, we have more important things to worry about right now.”

Vince couldn’t care about whatever Leo wanted to talk about. He wanted nothing more than to go back to his flat and lay down and get away from all this nonsense. His heart had been broken since he was pulled away from the record shop earlier, and it continued to break when he wasn’t able to talk about Rosie. Enough was already cut out in the magazine interview. He had nearly cried when he read an advanced copy of the article. There was barely anything in there about chimps and the organization that had let Vince pose with Rosie. She was the sweetest little creature he had ever met, and they had had a lot of fun together when they weren’t taking pictures. He had been allowed to hang out with her before--to get comfortable around one another. He had a good time talking to her. They drew a picture together, even. When he realized that she wasn’t given enough attention after the editors cut out almost everything Vince had said about her (they were, apparently, trying to let no one know that Vince had a gift for talking to animals), he had yelled at Leo. He put the blame on him until Leo genuinely apologized and swore he was ignorant. He had locked himself in his room after that, fighting back tears and dwelling on how much he hated modeling. 

“How did you know about the party?” Leo asked, trying to be playful. 

“You’re terrible at keeping secrets.” Vince tried to smile. “I’ve heard you on the phone making plans all week.”

“Well, try to act surprised on Saturday. And try to be a little happier. You’re turning 18!”

Vince didn’t know how to respond. Of course, he was excited to turn 18. But he had been asked about it so much in the past week. What difference would 18 make? He already lived on his own, he already had money (more money then he knew what to do with), he had a career (sort of), and he felt like he dealt with so much business on a daily basis that he was already practically an adult. He could buy in his own drinks, he supposed. Which was pretty cool. 

“Vincent? Are you alright?” 

Leo’s voice was soft. It was rarely so soft. He reserved it for when he knew Vince was truly struggling.

“I’m tired,” Vince said, dropping his head. “Can we go home?” 

“Sure, kid.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Chapter two! I played with a lot of character development in this one!

Howard found  _ Dazed and Confused  _ in the supermarket. He had never come across it before. It was one of the fashion and music magazines he never paid much attention to. But, there it was right in front of him, calling his attention next to the newest issue of  _ Time.  _

It was the same cover that he saw the night before. Vince was standing against a black and silver striped background in another ridiculous outfit--a jumpsuit (and who wore jumpsuits in the 21st century?). He had Rosie the baby chimp on his hip and looked into the camera with the same expression Howard noticed when the girls in the shop took pictures with him. It was a bit sad, Howard thought. The boy looked older with the serious eyes and pouty frown. He didn’t look like the same bouncy kid that came into the shop. 

Howard read the magazine after he opened the shop that day. He ignored every other article and picture published and skipped right to Vince’s section. Along with the cover photo, there were additional pictures of Vince with the chimp. In some, he held her hand as she stood next to him. In others, they were at the rehab center for chimps. One picture in particular made Howard smile. 

Rosie sat in Vince’s lap, looking younger than she had in the other pictures. The caption read that it was the first time the two of them had met. Howard didn’t fear smiling sappily at the picture.

No one ever came in early on Fridays. 

Except apparently Vince Noir. 

Howard slid the magazine out of view. If Vince had never told him he was a big-name model, then there was a chance he didn’t want Howard knowing at all. Or maybe he expected Howard to know already. 

“I listened to those records last night!” 

Vince looked tired. He had faint dark circles under his eyes, though the makeup around them was still perfect. 

“The Cucumbers are genius!”

He walked up to the counter, smiling brightly. 

“I thought you might like them.”

Howard walked Vince through the shop, picking out similar artists and digging for older albums by The Cucumbers. Vince talked the entire time they circled the shop, rattling off stories about small bands he had watched in clubs and how much he wanted to look like those people. He wanted to wear the heavy makeup everyday and dance around on stage as people adored him. What he really wanted, he told Howard, was to be a frontman. 

“I have everything I need to be a frontman. I have the looks. I have the charisma.”

“Can you play an instrument?” 

“No.”

Howard dug through a few more stacks of albums. They were perfectly organized thanks to him. Everything in that shop had order. Vince continued to talk about his dream of being a frontman, and Howard thought that maybe that would be what he moved on to when he was done with modeling. He didn’t say anything, though, just in case that was something Vince was still trying to hide from a man who presumably didn’t watch late night television or look at magazines. Besides, it was nice listening to Vince’s dreams. It was nice to know that someone who seemed to have it all was still longing for another life. 

But  _ did  _ Vince have it all? Howard wasn’t really sure what the extent of his fame was. He was recognized in public once. He was interviewed and on the cover of a popular magazine. He was able to buy new albums every few days without batting an eye at the price. He was still 17 for one day and wanted to retire. There wasn’t much else Howard was aware of. If Vince was thinking about retiring from modeling before even being an adult, then he must have been very well off. And maybe unhappy. 

Most likely unhappy. 

Vince followed Howard to the counter with his armful of vinyls. 

“If you want, you can listen to them before you buy them.”

Behind the counter was a turntable hooked up to the speakers of the store. Howard took off the folky album and put it gently back into its sleeve and setting it aside. Vince handed him a record--an older one by The Cucumbers. The sleeve was a little worn. The cover art was faded and totally gone at the corners with exposed, furry cardboard coming through. It was still a beautiful record, Howard thought. The cover art was a collage of the band and different animals frollicking around. Despite it being rough, there was some value in it. 

The record itself still sounded good, which was more important than the art. There were faint crackles that played alongside the music, adding something special to every chord. It showed the age of the record. For a moment, Howard thought that Vince wouldn’t be interested in it because of the obvious aging. But when he turned around, Vince’s eyes were bright and excited. 

“That’s genius,” he said, softly. 

How many words did he have in his vocabulary? 

Vince lifted himself onto the counter, perching facing the door but still slightly turned towards Howard. He inspected the record cover, running a hand through his hair and ruffling his top layers. 

Howard leaned against the wall, watching him read the song titles and begin to reach for another album. A fraternal feeling came over Howard, and he wouldn’t have minded if Vince had stayed in the shop all day just to listen to music. He wasn’t causing any problems, and no one was even around yet. Besides, it might be nice to show the clueless model (was it okay to call him clueless yet? Or did they need to be closer and actual friends?) how to work in retail. He could show Vince little things--where to put returns, how to handle rude customers. Just enough to keep Vince entertained. 

He seemed to be entertained easily. Howard could even let him choose the records to play for the rest of the day. He was liking the albums Howard had shown him. His eyes slowly trailed from cover to cover, his fingers following. Howard watched his gaze move from track list to track list and pausing occasionally when one in particular caught his attention. He moved from brightly colored records to older, plain ones. 

Then his eyes moved beyond the albums and lost their focus. 

He pressed his lips together and stared. The eyes became distant, and his fingers became restless, tapping on the cover he was holding. 

“What’s that?” he asked, voice quiet. Almost defeated.  

Howard looked over. The magazine was still exposed. It sat in the open, just waiting to be noticed by someone who was able to see over the register. 

“Oh.”

That was all Howard could say. He couldn’t read Vince’s emotions. 

“That’s uh…” Howard struggled. “That’s you, I guess.”

A corner of Vince’s mouth twisted up in an almost smile. “It is.” He looked back down at the record. 

“I didn’t know you read that stuff.” 

“I usually don’t, but I liked your interview. I liked… Rosie.” 

“Rosie’s great. I love her.” 

“And I saw you on TV the other night as well.”

Vince twisted his mouth, slowly pulling his bottom lip in between his lip and biting it. He leaned forward and then back again and tapped his thumb against the record sleeve. His eyes darted around the floor before his eyelids dropped close over them. He ran his thumb--the same thumb--over his top lip where hair might have grown if he had allowed it. Surely, he was old enough to grow facial hair. Maybe it would be patchy and thin at first, but with age it would come in fuller. 

“I didn’t expect you to see that,” he said. 

Howard shrugged. “I wasn’t looking for it. I just happened to come across it. I didn’t know about you--about the whole… celebrity thing before then.” 

“It didn’t seem important to tell you.”

“It wasn’t.” 

They were quiet, and the current song ended, leaving them enveloped in an uncomfortable silence. Howard wasn’t sure if he should have been the first one to say anything. Vince looked like a shy little kid, kicking one leg through the air while avoiding eye contact. It was so quiet Howard felt like his heart might explode if he didn’t say anything soon. 

“It’s interesting, though,” Howard finally said. “You must have fun.”

Vince smiled just a little bit, but it looked like a grimace. 

“It can be. It’s also boring.” He finally looked back up. “It’s not as glamorous as I thought it would be when I started. There’s a lot of meetings and old people I have to talk to. I’d rather just have someone take my picture, get paid, and call it a day.”

“Ah. That’s the struggle with every job, isn’t it? You think you find something you really enjoy, but there’s always a catch.”

Vince rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I guess you get it.” 

“It’s what happens when you become an adult.”

“But the more glamorous the work seems, the more disappointing it is to deal with the boring stuff. No one gets disappointed when they realize working at a record shop isn’t thrilling all the time.”

“The perks of working in a shop are probably fewer and farther between than being a celebrity model, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Your outfit probably costs more than my rent.”

Vince smirked, his face briefly relaxing from how distressed it was. “It probably does.”

“And you get to take pictures with adorable baby animals and talk about animal rights.”

Vince’s face fell again. “Not as much as you’d think. That interview cut out most of what I said about wildlife sanctuaries.”

“Oh.”

“I have no say over what gets printed. They could make me out to be a Nazi if they really wanted.” 

Vince picked at the corners of the album. There was no way to continue the conversation, Howard thought. Not without harassing the kid like a paparazzi. Not without breaking the trust the kid already had in him and not without violating any boundaries Howard could assume were there. He wasn’t the best at reading emotions all the time, but he could tell Vince’s squirming was a clear message that he didn’t want to open up anymore. 

“So, what else is there to know about Rosie? What’s this sanctuary she’s at?” 

Vince looked up and smiled.

It was enough to trigger a long conversation, Vince rambling about everything he knew about the sanctuary. He was oddly insightful. He knew everything about how the sanctuary was run and the animals they were fostering. And it wasn’t surprising that he knew every small detail. He had visited and toured multiple times. He was a familiar face there, and he had been working for months to get them publicity in hopes of new donations. 

They were on the edge of declaring bankruptcy, Vince told Howard. He gave off the impression that he didn’t fully understand bankruptcy, but Howard didn’t want to go into the details of how irreversible and heartbreaking it would be. 

A few customers came in, and Vince remained on the counter, talking away and smiling at customers. Customers smiled back, too, none of them recognizing him. 

Maybe that’s what Vince really wanted. To be charismatic and adored--maybe even obsessed over a bit--but not controlled. Not manipulated. Whatever life Vince was living, the cons must have outweighed the pros so much that he wanted to retire. 

“I should probably go before my agent drags me away again,” Vince said after a couple of hours. “I have negotiations this afternoon. I’m apparently signing a new contract tomorrow.”

He hopped down from the counter and gathered his records in a plastic bag. 

There was a little sadness that rested in Howard’s heart while Vince was getting ready to leave. Vince brought positive energy to the shop. He was like a walking ball of sunshine, spreading light to everyone around him. And he seemed to genuinely enjoy Howard’s company. And Howard enjoyed his. Howard was an only child, but he imagined whatever older siblings felt towards their younger siblings is what he was starting to feel towards Vince. It was like they were family in a past life. With Vince, he could feel the contagious happiness that Vince beamed when he wasn’t talking about his job. 

Without Vince, Howard was lonely. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope this chapter is okay. Vince's POV is a little hard. This is somewhat based off of my experiences. At a party a few months ago. When the party got busted, I was hiding with the other underages and as soon as security left, I puked and went home. It was awful. Not long after that, my roommate puked in our room after partying, and I had to wake her up every so often to make sure she was okay. 
> 
> Don't party too hard, kids.

All of Vince’s favorite songs were playing at an annoyingly high volume. He tried his best to pretend like the bass wasn’t vibrating his chest and giving him a splitting headache. 

A 36-year-old should never be put in charge of planning a party for a teenager. As much as Vince loved Leo (sometimes), he was a little out of touch with how young people partied. 

Vince drained the rest of his fruity cocktail in hopes that the alcohol would make him feel better. Emotionally and physically. It wouldn’t, he knew, deep down. He knew that it would only make everything worse as it usually did, but it would make the party funner. 

It had been a long day--which was a shame because Vince  _ loved  _ parties. They were usually his favorite ways to spend his time. He was always the center of attention and got lost in the music and drinks. He had fond memories of standing in the middle of the club, closing his eyes and twirling slowly as he forgot that anyone was around him. In those moments, he was the only one in the world. The music played only for him. The conversations and off-key singing around him disappeared. He would lift his chin, pretending that there wasn’t a roof blocking his face from the sky, from the moon, from the stars. The lights that flashed and swam around him could feel like sunlight if he thought about it hard enough. 

But the moments wouldn’t last long. He would open his eyes and realize all the eyes on him. And he would feel violated. 

Now, he couldn’t find that same escape. He knew Leo had kept him out all day so that he would be too distracted to think about the surprise party he wasn’t supposed to know about. It only Vince exhausted. He went to a meeting for negotiations that were supposed to be over last week, he signed the contracts, and went to a studio for makeup and clothing tests. He was painted up, shoved in tight, stiff clothes (that he usually would have enjoyed), blinded by the usual lights and flashes, scrubbed to get the makeup off, given new clothes to try on, painted up again, scrubbed again when the makeup didn’t show up well on camera, painted up  _ again _ , and finally freed in his own clothes and irritated face. It took hours, and by the time they were done, Vince slumped in his seat in the cab as Leo read the remainder of their schedule. 

“You’re meeting a journalist from  _ Pleasure _ in half an hour--”

“From what?”

“ _ Pleasure.  _ It’s a new online magazine. I told them they could only have you for a short Q&A. After that, Charles wants you for lunch.”

“I  _ hate  _ Charles.”

“But he  _ loves  _ you.”

“It’s too late for lunch, anyways.”

“It’s a late lunch. Don’t worry, you won’t have to sit through it for too long. He just wants to give you your birthday gift, and we have to catch our train at 5:00, anyways. We won’t be there long. And once we’re back home, you can have some time to rest before dinner.”

“Dinner with who?”

“Me.”

“Oh.”

“And Janice, Micky, and Stella.”

Vince slumped further in his seat. At least he liked Stella. She was 20, so she was close enough to his age to be enjoyable. He was fed up with having meals with people older than him. 

By the end of the day, he felt almost sick. His skull throbbed, making his stomach churn. He wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for 12 hours. 

“What’s wrong, Vincent?”

Leo swapped the empty glass with a new drink. Vince took a sip. Leo knew all of his favorite drinks.

“Nothing,” he said. 

“Tell me what’s wrong. You’re not enjoying yourself.”

Leo put his arm around Vince and lead him to the bar. Leo always smelled nice--like expensive cologne and aftershave. Vince leaned into him as they walked. 

“I know it’s been a long day,” Leo said. “But this is your night.”

Vince took a gulp of his drink, draining a little more than half the glass. He was already feeling the buzz of the drinks make him a little dizzy.

“You have to do a shot with me!”

A body fell against his back. It was Stella, he knew. She was already plastered, and when she was drunk, she was loud and forceful. Vince loved that about her. 

“Tequila or vodka?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing her cheek to his. “It’s your decision, birthday boy.”

He pulled his face out of her long, springy, tight coiled hair and dreaded the idea of doing a shot. Shots always burned his throat. He liked his fruity drinks that masked any taste of alcohol and got him drunk almost as quickly. 

“Tequila, obviously!”

Stella called for two shots of tequila. Vince quickly drained his glass. If this was his party, he was going to need to be a lot drunker. Everyone around him seemed to be having a better time than him, and his insides churned with anger at that. 

He licked salt off his hand, he downed the shot, and bit into the lime as he and Stella grimaced at each other. She laughed and put her lime on the bar counter. 

“Happy birthday, Vincey.”

She cradled his face and kissed the top of his head. 

She left after that, leaving behind her the scent of her perfume to dance with Mark, the obnoxious, pretentious poet she was hanging around lately. Vince wasn’t sure if he had any feelings for Stella beyond platonic, but he knew that she would only think of him as a little brother at most. They got together occasionally to hang out and always met up at parties. But she was older, and a 20-year-old woman would never be interested in an 17--no, 18-year-old boy. 

“Why haven’t you done a shot with me yet?” Vince asked Leo. He was definitely feeling the buzz now. 

Leo smirked around his tumbler of bourbon.

“I haven’t done a shot in years,” he said. “It’s not that dignified when you’re my age.”

“Well, it’s my birthday, so do one with me now.”

Vince tugged on his suit jacket. What a prick wearing a suit to a club. 

Two shots of whiskey were placed in front of them. It stung much more than the tequila and burned his mouth and throat. He coughed as Leo sat his glass down with a straight face. 

“Take it easy, Vincent. I don’t want to clean you up if you get sick.”

Vince soon had another cocktail in his hand, ignoring Leo’s warning. Then, he was doing another shot with more people--other models that had been in  _ Dazed and Confused. _ Then, another shot with more models he had worked with and bonded with over the short years he had been working. Then, another with actors that he only somewhat knew because they travelled in the same social circles as him. 

Then, he remembered that the people he truly felt at home with were the animals and people at the animal sanctuary. He thought about Rosie, probably already tucked in bed. He thought about his caretakers that had sent him a text that morning. They had sent a picture of them playing with Rosie and told him that they all wished him a happy birthday. 

Why did he have to have his birthday at a club instead of at the rehab center? 

He finished his drink and remembered how terribly small he was and how little he had to eat that day, his headache and constant dieting preventing him from finishing meals. He stumbled around the club, looking for a face he really knew--could really connect with--until Leo caught him in his arms. 

“Alright, I think you’ve had enough.”

What a know-it-all tone.

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

Vince pushed himself away, stumbling a little and looking up through his messy fringe to glare at Leo. Leo, who always had a schedule for him and always told what to do, where to be, who to be with. He didn’t like Vince spending so much time with the animals. He didn’t like Vince spending so much time at that record shop. 

His chest ached at the thought of the record shop. He and Howard were developing a bond that would probably need to be cut off. All he wanted to do was see Howard, who was everything Leo tried to be--caring and thoughtful and guiding. In the three years Leo had been Vince’s agent, he had made less than half of the progress Howard had made with Vince in three days. 

Of course, Leo also did more behind-the-scenes. Deep down, he cared about Vince. But in reality, they could never get past the agent-client relationship that lead to arguments and bitterness sometimes. 

“Vincent, please. You’re drunk.”

“It’s Vince, alright? Not Vincent.”

“I think you need a little fresh air.”

Vince couldn’t argue. Getting out of that stuffy, hot club seemed nice. He nodded, and Leo took him by the arm and lead him through the crowd and out the back door to a little patio. 

The cold air felt nice on Vince’s hot face. He closed his eyes and let the light breeze sting his cheeks. Leo lit a cigarette next to him. 

“What time is it?” he asked. 

“It’s only 10:30. I need you to slow down, alright? I know you want to celebrate, but I don’t want you passing out here so soon.”

The headache returned. It wrapped around Vince’s head. He looked to Leo, sipping another glass of bourbon and taking a long drag on his cigarette. He wanted away from that club. Desperately.

“Can I have water? Please?” 

“Of course.”

Leo looked a little concerned. He stomped out his cigarette and put his glass down on a patio table before going back inside. 

The record shop was probably closed, Vince thought, but maybe Howard would still be there. Maybe he could catch him as he was leaving and get to spend the rest of his birthday with him. 

He drank the rest of the bourbon in Leo’s glass and tried navigating his way to the street before Leo came back. 

Finding a cab was easy, and he tried his best to describe the record shop to the driver. He couldn’t remember the actual name. But the driver understood him after a couple of poor descriptions, and they were outside the shop within a few minutes. How had Vince not noticed how close the club and record shop were? He had never been to that club before--he did have to give Leo credit for finding a nice hole-in-the-wall that fit so many people. 

He didn’t notice how much he tipped the driver, but he hoped it was generous. 

He stumbled out of the cab, ignoring the driver’s concerned questions, and walked up the shop. Sure enough, the open sign was turned around. But Howard was still there, flipping through records and occasionally making a note on a clipboard. 

Vince tapped on the glass door, startling Howard. He probably looked like a mess. He couldn’t imagine how smeared his makeup or tangled his hair was. He probably looked especially pathetic with his arms wrapped protectively around himself. 

Howard quickly opened the door. 

“What’s happened?” he asked. 

“Nothing. I was at a party, and I wanted to come here.”

Howard pulled him inside and looked him over. 

“Are you alright? You look a mess.”

Vince nodded, though it was slow. He was lying to himself and to Howard. He was starting to feel ill as the last drink caught up to him, and his headache was only getting worse. 

“Come on. There’s a bathroom in the back. We can get you cleaned up.”

Howard put a hand on his back. It was so much more gentle than how Leo would always grab his arm. 

“Something had to have happened. What’s going on?”

The bright fluorescent of the bathroom light pierced Vince’s eyes. It was a bland bathroom with one toilet and hard paper towels that Howard used to wipe away Vince’s running eyeliner. He put a hand to the back of Vince’s head, holding him still to sop up the makeup.

“I just wanted to see you,” Vince said. 

“Why?”

“Because… I’m drunk… and I missed you… and I hated everyone I was around.”

Vince leaned against the sink. He looked at himself in the mirror as Howard ran more paper towels under the faucet. 

He looked awful. His hair was all over the place and sweaty. His makeup was making its way to his cheeks, which were horribly flushed. 

“What are you going to do now that you’re here?” Howard asked. 

Vince shrugged and took a deep breath. That’s all he needed. To keep breathing. That’s what he needed to focus on.

“Who’s looking after you?”

“Myself. I’m 18 now.”

“Oh, that’s right. Happy birthday.”

“18 is supposed to be important.”

“It is.”

Shit. He wasn’t thinking about breathing. He was too distracted thinking about how important the number 18 had been made out to be by Leo. 

“Don’t you have an agent, though? Doesn’t he look out for you?”

“Yeah.”

_ Keep breathing. Keep breathing. _

“What’s his number? I’m going to call him to pick you up.”

_ Keep. Breathing. _

“Vince?”

_ Why can’t you focus on breathing, you cunt?  _

Howard turned him around and put him in front of the toilet. Vince fell to his knees and retched. 

“Oh god,” he heard Howard mumble. 

How embarrassing. Now Howard would never want to see him again. Not after watching him vomit colorful alcohol and a meager dinner in a staff bathroom of his work. 

He pulled himself away and leaned against the wall, hanging his head partially in shame and partially in exhaustion. 

“Come on, I need a phone number.”  

Vince weakly pulled out his cellphone from his back pocket and unlocked it. He only got as far as pulling up Leo’s contact information before handing it to Howard. 

He began to drift off as he heard Howard calm down the panicking Leo over the phone. 

Howard held wet paper towels to his forehead and neck as he drifted in and out of consciousness. His stomach rolled and burned, and he thought he might vomit again and hoped he would be able to throw his body over the toilet in time.

“Oh, Vincent...”

He opened his eyes and suddenly it was Leo kneeling in front of him. Leo dragged a hand through Vince’s hair. He pulled on the tangles, but Vince didn’t have the energy to protest. Leo was a little drunk, too, judging from his roughness.

“Thank you so much,” Leo said over his shoulder. “I’m so sorry for this.”

Howard was somewhere out of sight. 

“Come on, Vincent.”

Leo pulled Vince to his feet and out of the bathroom. Vince leaned heavily on him, breathing in the cologne that was now overwhelming and threatened to make him sick again. 

“No,” he mumbled and pushed himself away. “I want to stay with Howard.”

Howard, now visible, raised his eyebrows.

“We shouldn’t impose further than what we have,” Leo said. 

“There’s no ‘we’ in this. I don’t want to go home with you.”

His protests did not come out as strong as he thought they would in his mind. His drunk tongue slurred the words and probably made him sound whiny. 

“Vincent, please--”

“I don’t care where I go. I’m just not going back with you. I’ll sleep on a park bench.”

Leo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. That was how Vince knew he was truly angry. That was how he looked when Vince protested a new contract or insisted on a break during a photoshoot. 

“We’re going back to your flat.  _ Now.”  _

There was tense silence between them. Vince did his best to glare while Leo had no trouble giving him his usual disapproving stare. 

“I actually wouldn’t mind.” 

Vince turned to Howard. His hair fell over his eyes and obscured his view. He could barely see the older man awkwardly shove his hands his pockets and stare down Leo. It was like he was trying to be intimidating but his body gave him away as the terribly awkward man he really was.

“I only live a block away,” he said. “I think it would be easier to get Vince there than wherever it is he lives.”

Leo was caught off guard. He probably didn’t expect Howard to pick a side, Vince thought. He especially didn’t expect Howard to pick Vince’s side. It was rare to see Leo so taken aback. It felt good. The man that accompanied Vince to every meeting, photoshoot, publicity event--the man who spent almost every waking hour with Vince--was never met with opposition. The man that was supposed to know Vince better than anyone (and who, admittedly, probably did) and be loco parentis was never challenged. Until Howard Moon offered to let Vince sleep at his flat. 

“He looks half-dead,” Howard went on. “He’ll be safe with me.”

Leo crossed his arms. “How do I know he’ll be safe?”

Vince walked to Howard as best as he could. Howard quickly put his arm around Vince to keep him from falling.

“I’ve gotten to know him too well over the past week,” Howard said. 

Vince pressed his head into Howard’s shoulder and closed his eyes, hoping that the room would stop spinning soon. 

He didn’t remember much about how Leo came to agree that Vince could go with Howard. He vaguely recalled Leo ruffling his hair before leaving, as if to show that he wasn’t really mad with Vince. 

Howard supported most of Vince’s weight as they zig-zagged down the sidewalk. He was mildly impressed with how tidy and minimalist Howard’s flat was. And how comfortable the couch was. 

He fell asleep quickly, not worried about the lingering taste of vomit in his mouth or the makeup that was going to clump around his eyes in a gunky, crusty mess by morning. He felt Howard lay a blanket over him and then brush his hair out of his face. 

Some time later, he was woken for a few minutes as he was pushed on his side. He must have rolled onto his back, and it must have made Howard nervous. 

It was so kind of Howard to check on him. When Vince was this drunk around Leo, he was left hanging off his bed with a trash can under his head. Sometimes, Leo would leave a glass of water and Paracetamol with a note that had mildly-encouraging words and a smiley face. Maybe Leo wasn’t that bad. He did best to be a babysitter when he was really only supposed to be an agent. Maybe Vince gave him too much shit. 

Maybe it was time for Vince to grow up. That could be why Leo thought his 18th birthday was so important. 

Howard pressed his fingers to Vince’s cheek. Somewhere in Vince’s mind, he remembered that a symptom of alcohol poisoning was low body temperature. It was one of the only things Vince remembered from school. 

Howard must have been prodding Vince’s cheeks to check his temperature. Vince opened his eyes to look up at his caretaker.

“Sorry,” Howard whispered. “I’m just checking on you. Go back to sleep.”

Vince tried saying that it wasn’t a big deal and he’d rather be woken up and cared for than asleep in his own vomit at his flat. It only came out as a mumble, incoherent and forgotten.

Vince fell back asleep before Howard left his side. 


	4. Chapter 4

“I’m glad you could come.”

Marie was a short, plump woman not much older than Howard. Vince had put an arm around her and kissed her cheek when they met her outside the gates of the New Friends Sanctuary. 

“I’ve been having trouble finding time,” Vince said. 

He looked tired to Howard. Almost aged. It could have been the clothes he was wearing, as well. Instead of a usual tight black outfit, he was wearing something a little more modest for the animals. He was wearing regular jeans, which shocked Howard because he didn’t think that the boy would ever own anything so normal. 

But beyond the clothes, Vince looked different. His hair wasn’t as high as it usually was, and his lack of makeup revealed dark eye circles and pale cheeks--Howard had always assumed his pallid expression was intentional and aided by makeup, and maybe it was at first. But now Vince looked sickly and tired. 

Howard wondered what he had been doing. Of course, he had been working, but Howard was concerned about how much. There was a big contract Howard knew about. Vince had told him about it the morning after his birthday. Vince wasn’t sure what it would entail yet, but he was excited for it. Or he at least pretended to be. 

Howard didn’t bother approaching the subject carefully as soon as Marie was out of the room. 

“How is… everything?”

Vince shrugged, looking around the enclosure they were in. It was mostly bare, only used for visits. The floor was concrete, and the only splash of color was a sign tied to the fence that explained basic rules with the sanctuary’s logo across the top. 

“It’s alright.”

“Just alright?”

Vince pulled his hands between his legs and pointed his feet together. It was an incredibly awkward position that he made look artistic. 

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence until Marie came back in. 

Rosie walked in with her, holding her hand and then screaming excitedly when she saw Vince. Vince held out his arms and scooped up the chimp when she ran towards him. He sat down with her, letting her stand on his legs and wrap her arms around his neck. She gently tugged at his hair and made excited noises, and Vince made them back. 

He was the happiest Howard had ever seen him. 

“I want you to meet my mate, Howard.” 

Rosie turned to Howard as if she understood Vince. She pursed her lips at him. 

“Is that good?” he asked, smiling nervously. 

“She likes you!”

Rosie reached out for Howard and made a brief grunt. 

“She wants you to hold her,” Vince translated. 

Howard began opening his arms when she climbed over to him. She was heavier than he expected. She examined him closely, pulling at his hair and turning his head and prodding his face. Vince was laughing, and Howard couldn’t help but laugh as well. He closed her eyes and let her continue her exploration. Once she was happy, she settled in his arms, snuggling close to his chest. 

“That’s genius,” Vince said. “She usually doesn’t get that close to people when she first meets them.”

“I have a way with animals.”

Vince petted Rosie’s head. 

“I told you you’d like him, didn’t I?” he said. “Last time I was here I told her all about you.” 

Howard was honored that Vince had talked about him. Even if it was to a chimp. 

Rosie was calm in Howard’s lap, and Vince told him that he should feel honored. With Rosie being on the verge of sleep, Howard was able to pick up their conversation from before. 

“What are you up to? In the world of modeling?”

Vince frowned. “I have that new contract and all. That fashion magazine that has me working with that designer, Jean-Pierre. I started doing the official shoots for them this week.”

“How’s it going?” 

Howard was hesitant to hear the answer. 

“It’s a busy job between the fittings and meetings.” Vince took Rosie’s hand and stroked her palm. “But Leo says that it’ll be the best career move I’ve ever had. It’s pretty brilliant, really. I’m getting dozens of outfits out of it.”

“How is Leo?” 

And Vince got even more awkward. He pressed his lips together and focused on Rosie. 

“He’s alright. Still mad at me for… you know.”

“Running away from your party and puking two weeks ago?” 

“Yeah,” Vince said with a little laugh. “He told me he needs me to grow up.”

Vince was only 18. He couldn’t be expected to be an adult just yet, Howard thought. What was he supposed to do? Vince seemed to have sunshine inside him that would be dimmed if he were forced to grow up. Howard had heard about the teen celebrities that were forced to abandon their childhoods. By 30, they were disasters trying to reclaim what they had lost. And who could blame them? 

“Don’t listen to him,” Howard said.

Vince shook his head. “I think he has a point.”

“There’s plenty of time for you to grow up. You don’t have to do it all at once.”

Vince wanted to retire, Howard remembered. And here he was, in the beginnings of his “best career move” which was probably going to trap him in this business for much longer. 

Rosie pulled Vince forward. Vince gently leaned in and hesitantly put his head on Howard’s shoulder. Howard moved his arm so he could wrap it around Vince. He usually didn’t like being touched, but Vince was an exception. Vince was like a little kid--a little brother. It would be cruel to not hold him for just a second. 

Howard wondered how long it had been since Vince was held. 

Rosie repositioned herself so that she was on both of their laps, getting as much love and attention that she could. She deserved it, Howard thought with a little bitterness. She had stolen his heart in only a matter of minutes. 

“Maybe I’ll work in a zoo someday,” he said. 

Vince didn’t respond. He was sound asleep, Howard noticed. He let him sleep. 

“Maybe I’ll leave the record store and find a zoo to train at. That’s what I wanted to do when I was a kid.” Howard tapped his finger against Vince’s arm. “I’ve heard a rumor that there might be a zoo opening close by. I’d like to see what that’s about. Maybe there’ll be baby chimps there. You’d probably like them--not that you can replace Rosie. But maybe there’ll be new ones you can see and bond with. It’s like you can talk to them. I think you’d be good for them. Who knows, maybe you’ll be able to retire and work there, too.”

* * *

 

Vince wondered if it was possible to fall asleep standing up. 

He let the hot water from the shower run over him, not moving to do anything but soak up the warmth. He had been cold recently. He always got cold easily, but now it was a constant presence deep in his skin. It went down to his bones and made him ache and made him drowsy. 

He was so tired. 

Fortunately, Howard let him sleep for a while before Rosie woke him up, demanding to play. He had been embarrassed that he fell asleep, but Howard said nothing about it. 

He stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in his fuzziest robe. The coldness was setting in again. 

The sun was setting, he realized, when he walked into his bedroom. He probably should have had dinner by then, but there was nothing appetizing to him in that moment. 

He put on a loose t-shirt and sweatpants--a far cry from his regular, glamorous outfits. He wanted to lay in his bed and distract himself until he was asleep, but his phone was chirping from across the room. 

_ I’ll bring sushi if you haven’t eaten yet. I’d like to talk to you. _

He texted Leo back, only to take him up on his offer of sushi. It would also probably be nice to have Leo talk to him for the first time in two weeks.

When he woke up on Howard’s couch after his birthday, Vince wasn’t expecting Leo to be so upset. He didn’t remember much of the night before, so he didn’t remember the toddler-like fit he threw when Leo wanted to take him back. He wouldn’t have realized something was wrong, either, judging by Howard. The older man had given him a smug smirk when Vince sat up and looked around. Leo, on the other hand, had a speech prepared for him. 

Vince was trying to stay warm under blankets on his sofa when Leo let himself in with a bag of takeout. He smiled at Vince, and it felt wrong. Leo should have been upset with him still. 

“How was the New Friends Sanctuary?” Leo asked. 

“It was alright. I took a nap with Rosie.”

Leo grimaced a little. “That sounds nice. A little unhygienic, maybe.”

“But I showered and everything when I got back.”

Leo set down the bag and began taking out the sushi. Vince had to admit that Leo knew him well. He knew everything that Vince liked to eat--which was impressive since he was such a picky eater. 

“Cheers,” Vince said, taking his portion. “What do you need to talk about?”

Vince had assumed it was something with his new gig. Maybe Jean-Pierre was scrapping an outfit or two and needed Vince to try on something new. Maybe there needed to be more alterations. Or new makeup tests. Maybe they were going to push for Vince to lose a little weight. They had already brought it up while signing the contract, but Leo was insistent that they drop the subject or he and Vince would walk away. Leo was a pretty good guy, really. He stood up for Vince when it was really necessary. 

“Just a few things. Jean-Pierre is going to need you tomorrow morning for more fittings.”

Vince rolled his eyes. 

“I know,” Leo said. “I got him to push it back as late as possible, but he’ll need you at 9.”

“9?”

Vince didn’t like waking up before 10. Leo walked him through the next day’s schedule while they ate. It was mundane. Vince didn’t know why Leo wanted to talk about all of it over a dinner. He usually saved dinners for bigger conversations. 

Vince picked at his food. He usually loved sushi. It wasn’t something he had ever expected to like. He remembered the first time Leo bought him sushi. It was soon after Leo signed him on as a client. He was 16 and eager and poked at his fish until Leo slapped at his hand and told him to try it. It was life-changing. It almost became a tradition for them in that moment. They would get sushi every Sunday night as Leo went over his weekly scheduling. After a while, they stopped until Vince moved out of London. The first night he was in his new flat, Leo brought him sushi.

Vince never had a problem finishing sushi before. 

“There’s one more thing, Vincent.” Leo leaned forward and wrung his hands together. “We didn’t want to tell you before you visited today--”

Vince’s stomach sank. This was it. Leo looked at him and licked his lip. It looked like he wanted to avoid saying anything more. 

“But New Friends is closing.”

“ _ Fuck _ .”

Vince didn’t know what to do. He stared at Leo, then the floor. He didn’t know if he was going to puke or faint or cry. It would have felt less painful if the entire building came crashing down around him. 

He let out a small sob, his breath catching in his lungs and nearly choking him. 

Where would all of the animals go? None of them were okay to be on their own. It took years to rehabilitate and socialize chimps. And what about Rosie? She was rescued from one shitty zoo. What if she ended up at another one? What if there was no room for her at any other sanctuary and she ended up somewhere that didn’t know how to take care of her? What if she ended up somewhere far away from Vince? What if she ended up with people who didn’t understand her? 

He was freezing. It was as if the cold had crept further into him, past his skeleton and into his organs. It grabbed his heart and twisted it and tried pulling it out. He was in pain. 

“We should try to be positive about this,” Leo said, putting an arm around Vince. 

The pain was excruciating. 

He was sobbing in Leo’s arms. He couldn’t stop. Leo tried hushing him and pulling him close to his chest. 

“It’ll be alright, Vincent. They’ve been expecting it. They’re going to make sure the animals go to good homes.”

And what about Vince? He tried so hard to get the sanctuary attention. And no one cared. No one gave a shit enough to help. All the rich people he hung out with couldn’t have done anything. Their money together would have helped the sanctuary within minutes. But he guessed none of them had tried to help. They probably had no intentions of helping. They were awful people. They only cared about themselves. 

Maybe Vince was starting to fall into that realm as well. He could be selfish. He could be downright hateful and mean at times. He didn’t know who he was anymore. 

“Vincent, I promise you it’s not as bad as it seems.”

Leo pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at Vince’s face. Vince took it from him. 

“Do you know why I wanted to be your agent?” Leo asked. Vince shook his head. “Because you have such a big heart. Sometimes people tend to be shallow in this industry--not just the clients. Agents and managers, too. But I’ve always wanted to stay away from that because there’s something beautiful about modeling, and you embody that. You get to express yourself every day, and you’ve been trying to use your public status to help others.”

Vince scrubbed at his face with the handkerchief. Why did Leo carry around handkerchiefs? 

“Thanks,” he said. 

He didn’t believe a word Leo said. Vince was the shallowest person around. 

“Do you need anything?” Leo said. “Do you need me to stay with you--”

“No. I’ll be okay.”

Leo sighed. “If you’re sure, I’ll leave.”

Vince nodded and handed the handkerchief back. Leo stood and gathered the trash from dinner. He looked disappointed at Vince’s unfinished meal, but he put it away with the rest of the garbage, probably knowing that Vince wouldn’t finish it now. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning to pick you up, okay?” 

“Okay.”

As soon as Leo left, Vince was on the phone. He was shaking and not thinking clearly, he knew.

“Stella? Let’s have a kiki. Right now.”

Stella was confused, but quickly agreed. 

“Just us?” she asked. 

“Of course. I miss you. I want to talk, and I have some tea.”

“Are you okay? You sound sniffly.”

“Yeah! I’m fine. If you aren’t here in twenty minutes, I’m going to start drinking without you.”

“Fine!” she laughed. “I’ll be there.”

Vince didn’t wait twenty minutes. He grabbed one of the bottles he was gifted on his birthday. He was given so many expensive bottles of booze. It was obnoxious. The money could have gone to New Friends rather than pretentious alcohol that would be drunk at a ridiculous speed by an irresponsible teenager. 

He tried not being bitter pouring his first shot and looking through his albums. He found one of The Cucumbers albums he had yet to listen to. Howard would want to know how he felt about it. Vince threw back the shot, grimacing as it warmed his throat and face for a second before he returned to being cold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: do English people know what a kiki is? If not, you’re missing out. Also do English people say “tea” as in, y’know, “tea?”


End file.
